


Counterpoint

by Lepidopteran (inarticulate)



Series: Human AU [2]
Category: Tales of Destiny
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inarticulate/pseuds/Lepidopteran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shouldn't every Swordian's greatest wish be a human body?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Counterpoint

"You know, now that the technology is there, you could get a human body, too," Rutee said. Her voice was quiet, but Atwight could feel it reverberate through her Core Crystal. The words fit together awkwardly, like Rutee had practiced it in her head and it wasn't coming out right. "You and Dymlos could, you know… be together again."

Atwight had thought about it before. She had all those memories of his skin against hers rattling around loose inside her, hitting all the raw areas that Harold hadn't thought to smooth out. But she'd had so many years to make peace with that and come to terms with the fact that she was a sword. "It's all right," she said. "I'm your Swordian, and Dymlos is Stahn's Swordian."

"But…" Rutee set Atwight down and gestured expansively. "But Chaltier wasn't happy with that, was he? And you're different, you have a lover and everything!"

The Atwight of her memories would have closed her eyes, would have offered a comforting touch. She remembered how to heal bodies and how to heal hearts. "You're projecting, Rutee," this Atwight said instead. "I'm a Swordian. The rest of us are happy with that. My master lived a long and happy life after the war was over."

Rutee scowled. "So, what, because some other you lived out a happy life you're content to be a sword? Is that it?"

"Yes," Atwight said simply.

That seemed to catch Rutee short; she sat down on the bed and put her head in her hands. "Are you sure?" she asked, muffled and childlike, and that, too, Atwight remembered.

"Being a Swordian isn't something bad," she said. "If I weren't a Swordian, I never would have met you." Rutee looked up, and Atwight could see the line in between her brows starting to deepen. "I am happy this way, Rutee. I know you can't understand it, but you need to accept it."

Rutee made a face and looked away. "All right," she said. "But if you change your mind, you have to tell me right away! I don't want you to keep that sort of thing a secret."

Atwight didn't say anything to that; she didn't think she needed to. Rutee flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, and Atwight let her consciousness drift. A Swordian couldn't close eyes or breathe deeply, couldn't sleep, couldn't dream, but Atwight could lose herself in memories of chubby baby fingers and Chris Katret's soothing voice singing lullabies.


End file.
